Let It Snow
by SSAEmilyHotchner
Summary: Oneshot. It's early-October and Jack Hotchner can't wait for Christmas or their 'special visitor'. Written for mhopeg's prompt, "snowflake." H/P. TOTAL FLUFF!


**Author's Note: For those of you who are suffering through insane summer temperatures right now, I hope this provides some relief. And for those of you living in Antarctica...I am so jealous. Thank you for reading, and a HUGE shoutout is a must for one of my favorite people and favorite reviewers, mhopeg, who is just an all-around sweetheart and for whom this story was written. :) Please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

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><p>Emily had barely taken two steps into the bullpen when she heard Hotch call out to her.<p>

"Prentiss, can I see you in my office, please?"

JJ and Morgan shared a conspirational glance. "Oooh, someone's in trouble," the latter teased.

"Shut up, Derek," she retorted with a roll of her eyes.

Reid looked up at their boss's office curiously. "I know he's always here really early, but guys…I didn't even see Hotch come in. I didn't even realize he was here. And I was the first one in."

"You only thought you were the first one," Garcia said. "The man's like a fox." At Morgan's raised eyebrow, she explained, "He's super sneaky."

_Oh, he's like a fox, alright,_ Emily thought with a secretive smile. Putting down her belongings on her small desk, she made her way to the man who was summoning her, the smile still on her face. She paused slightly, however, when she heard Rossi chuckling at her.

"What?"

"Nothing," he dismissed, a vague yet all-knowing quirk to his lips.

Emily looked at him warily before brushing it off and pushing Hotch's door open slowly. "Hey, you wanted to see me?"

She hardly had time to register what was happening, however, before a five year old blur precariously set down a full glass of orange juice and pounced in her arms. "Miss Emily!"

"Oof," she grunted as the boy collided into her. Grinning widely, she picked him up and spun him around. "Hey there, buddy! How are you?"

Jack wrapped his arms securely around her neck. "Good! I got you something," he said with a smile that was _so_ like his father's.

"You did?" She gasped theatrically. "_Really?_"

Jack nodded excitedly before motioning for her to set him on his feet. Fishing through his pocket, he finally pulled out a necklace with a sparkly plastic snowflake charm and other tiny beads held together by thick blue string, and handed it to her.

It was then that Emily noticed the crudely cut paper chain of snowflakes lining Hotch's bookshelf. "Wow, you two, it looks like Christmas in here."

"Yeah, about that; a certain young boy couldn't wait two months for snow and presents," Hotch quipped with a small laugh.

The boy in question beamed. "So, I made my own snow!"

"Well, I think your snowflakes are beautiful. And as for the necklace…" Emily kneeled to his height and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I absolutely love it. Thank you so much, Jack."

He bit his lip and flushed slightly, watching as she carefully put his gift on. "You're welcome."

Finally moving out from behind his desk, Hotch stood and closed the distance between them in measured strides. Running a hand through his son's hair, he said, biting back his smile, "Jack has a question for you."

If possible, Jack's expression brightened even further. "When are you going to come over, Emmy? I miss you."

Emily felt her heart skip a beat at his sweet, innocent words. "Well, that's up to your daddy, honey." The two adults shared a brief yet smoldering glance.

"Well, Daddy?" Jack asked expectantly, his eyes wide.

His hand now on Jack's shoulder, Hotch cocked his head to the side slightly. "How about tonight?"

"Please, Emmy? Please, please, _please?_"

Emily smiled reassuringly at Jack before turning her smile to his father. "Tonight sounds great."

~.~.~

Hotch couldn't help but laugh as Emily ran through the heavy rain from the door of the Bureau building to her car, screaming at herself all the while for not bringing an umbrella.

Jack giggled at the sight as well, until a thought came to him suddenly. "Wait, Daddy!"

"Yes, Jack?"

"I thought Emmy was coming home with us!" he exclaimed.

"She is," Hotch answered for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Then why is she going over there?"

"Miss Emily has her own car, buddy, and she doesn't want to leave it here overnight. She's going to drive behind us and meet us at home," Hotch assured, patting his back soothingly. _Emily has _both_Hotchner men wrapped around her little finger,_ he thought.

"Oh, okay." Then, as they dashed through the torrential downpour to their car, Jack piped up once more. "Daddy?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"What are we gonna eat for dinner?" The question was immediately followed by a loud series of stomach grumbles.

Hotch thought it over. "I honestly have no idea. What do you want me to make?"

Jack shook his head. "Emmy's food is better than yours, Daddy."

"Believe me, I know." He smiled softly at the memories. "But we can't ask her to cook for us, Jack; she's _our_ guest, and it's not polite."

As it turned out, Emily had other plans. Dinner à la Chef Prentiss consisted of tender chicken strips – or dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets, in Jack's case – and a side of deliciously seasoned, bite-sized potato wedges.

Jack leaned back in his seat at the dining table and let out a contented sigh. "That was really good," he moaned.

The two adults laughed. "You're already finished?" Hotch asked incredulously. "I'm not even half-way through with mine."

"Looks like someone was pretty hungry." Emily smiled as Jack yawned tiredly. "It also looks like it's PJ time for that very same someone."

Jack frowned. "I don't wanna go to sleep. I want to stay up so we can play," he protested.

"Oh, honey…you're practically about to pass out from exhaustion," she said as he yawned yet again. "How about this; put your plate in the sink and go brush your teeth, then I'll be there in a minute to tuck you in. That sound okay?"

"Will you at least read me a bedtime story?"

"Jack," Hotch warned, "why don't we let Miss Emily relax? She's had a really long day, buddy."

"No, no, it's okay," Emily assured. "I'd love to read you a story, Jack."

He rubbed his eyes as he pushed in his chair with a loud creak. "Okay," he said happily, moving towards the kitchen sink.

"And what do we tell Miss Emily for dinner?" Hotch prompted.

"Thank you," Jack said, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly.

"It was thanks enough that you enjoyed it," she smiled. "Now hurry on to your room and pick a story before I change my mind," she teased with a wink.

"Okay, okay!" And away he ran.

~.~.~

A smile painted Emily's face as Jack eagerly curled up beneath the covers and turned on his bedside lamp, casting their shadows onto the wall in the process. "So," she said, "what book should we read?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. Then, after a beat: "Anything to do with snow."

"Boy, you really want Christmas to be here, don't you?" Emily asked, scanning his small bookshelf for any promising titles.

"Uh huh," Jack nodded. "Because of our special visitor!"

She chuckled quietly. "Who, Santa?"

"No," the boy giggled. "_You_, Miss Emmy. You always come over on Christmas and Daddy says you make Christmas special for us."

For the second time that day, Emily's heart did a little flip. "Well, your daddy's much too sweet. And guess what?"

"What?" He grinned.

"You," she kissed his cheek, "are even sweeter." Finally, she found the tastefully illustrated picture book she had been looking for and pulled it off the shelf with a flourish. "Now close your eyes and try to get some sleep."

Snuggling farther back into his pillows, Jack watched as Emily came to sit at the foot of his bed. "M'kay."

Clearing her throat, she began. "T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the house –"

" – not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." Jack smiled a tired smile. "This is my favorite."

Emily sweetly returned his smile. "I know it is. Now _sleep._"

Jack said nothing, just obeyed, her voice a wonderful lullaby.

"The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled down for a long winter's nap…"

~.~.~

"Hey."

Hotch looked up at the sound of her voice, only to find her a couple inches away. He handed her a generously filled glass of her favorite red wine as she plopped down on the couch beside him, their backs to the fire. "Hey."

Accepting the drink gladly, she curled up against his side. "You know, you were right earlier; today really has been a long day."

He snaked an arm around her waist. "Especially for you. I still don't understand why you insisted on finishing _all_ of your files and _all_ of your paperwork before we left."

Emily snorted. "Hypocrite. Besides," she took a long sip of her wine, "I wanted to spend my weekend doing someone – I mean, something – else."

Hotch chuckled at her very _intentional_ slip of the tongue. "Really? Like what?"

Slowly, Emily placed her nearly empty glass onto the nearby coffee table. Inching ever closer, she set her lips to his shoulder. "Oh, nothing," she mumbled against his skin.

"That sure doesn't feel like nothing." He grunted as her lips travelled to the hollow of his throat, then the underside of his jaw. "Oh, Emily…"

Covering his mouth with hers, she silenced him with a coaxing, teasing kiss. "Have I answered your question yet?"

"Almost," Hotch whispered breathlessly, guiding her backwards until she was spread across the couch's entire length. "Almost."

"Hurry," Emily said simply, a dangerously seductive glint in her beautiful, large doe eyes.

Hovering over her, he claimed her lips in another kiss. It was fiercer this time, more fiery, more passionate. "I'm hurrying," he muttered tightly, his fingers working at her buttons.

Hotch realized he was hurrying _too _much, however, when he impatiently ripped open her blouse, his sudden action causing them to roll off the couch and onto the carpeted floor.

"_Oh my God._ Are you okay, Emily?"

Her shoulders shook with uncontrollable laughter, despite the fact that she was being plastered to the ground by a hard male body. "I'm fine," she managed.

"Are you sure?" Even with genuine concern lacing his voice, nothing could mask the husky undertone hiding in his warm baritone. "I'm so sorry, Em, I –"

"I'm _fine_," she said again, grabbing onto the collar of his dress shirt and pressing her lips to his ear. "Undress me."

This time, he didn't need to be told twice. Pulling down her slacks and pushing apart the two halves of her now torn blouse, Hotch felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. "_Holy hell_," he growled.

Emily let out the breathy little laugh that never failed to set his blood afire. "You like that, huh?"

"Very much so." He dropped his lips to the swell of her left breast, peppering kisses along the edge of the sheer maroon bra that she was practically spilling out of.

"It's like I'm your very own Christmas present, just waiting to be unwrapped…"

"You're not going to have to wait very long," he said, shedding his shirt.

"_Good_," she said in approval. "Aaron?"

He deftly undid his belt. "Yes?"

"Make love to me."

His heart pounded as the four words fell from her perfect lips. "Always."

Hotch was about to do just that when Emily stopped him. "Wait…here? In the middle of your living room?" She paused. "I thought for sure you would at least take me to your bedroom," she teased. "After all…isn't Jack just two doors down the hall? What if he wakes up and –"

"Doubtful," he interrupted, adrenaline coursing through his veins. _Damn it, I need you. Now. _"He sleeps like a log."

Emily tossed him a wicked smile as he removed the remaining garments from their bodies. "Good enough for me."

~.~.~

"Mmm…I'm freezing."

Hotch's lips quirked slightly. "I wonder why. Maybe because the fire's about to go out, or because it's cold outside…oh yeah, or the fact that you aren't wearing a single _stitch_ of clothing…"

"I wonder whose fault that one is," she joked, running her fingers through his head as his tongue played with her navel.

"_Yours._ Taunting me with that lingerie of yours, _especially_ in that color…"

"Speaking of which, where'd you fling my panties this time?" Emily's eyes crinkled at the corners as he motioned vaguely to somewhere behind them. "Hopefully not in the fireplace," she quipped.

He barked out a laugh. "Now _that_ would be a shame."

"Hmmm…" Her voice trailed away as she shivered.

Moving so that their bodies were aligned once more, Hotch pulled the spare blanket he kept on the couch to the ground and covered them both in its sweet warmth. Emily snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his chest, her silky hair tickling his chin.

"Can we just stay here? Forever?"

Hotch chuckled. "In the middle of my living room?" he mocked. "Isn't Jack only two doors down the hall?"

"I don't see what the harm is in doing nothing but lying in someone's arms is. Besides, I can't remember who, but someone told me that the young Mister Hotchner sleeps like a log," Emily tossed back.

"Really? This person who told you…anyone I know?"

"Maybe," she shrugged, playing along. "Tall, dark hair, absolutely _gorgeous_…"

"Well, Em, now you're just describing yourself," he grinned.

She kissed his jaw. "Sweet talker. I'm serious."

"I know you are."

Taking the time to relish each other's embrace, it was a long time before either of them spoke. Then, curiously…

"Did it stop raining?"

"Huh." They both listened for a sound, anything outside, but they heard nothing. "I guess so." Hotch watched as Emily stood and wrapped the blanket tightly around her body before making her way to the window, then the front door. "It'll probably start again, though –"

"Oh my God, it's snowing!"

Throwing on his boxers and shirt, Hotch joined her, an identical look of awe and surprise on his face. "_Wow._ I can't even remember the last time it snowed this early in October. That's incredible." He laughed as Emily stuck her tongue out to catch an errant snowflake. "Taste good?" he teased.

"The best." Emily smiled. "Jack is going to be absolutely thrilled," she said softly.

Wrapping his arms around her from behind, Hotch rested his chin on her shoulder. "He sure is, but not if you catch pneumonia from staying out here for too long. Come back inside, Em."

She didn't answer, didn't move, just watched as snowflake after beautiful snowflake made the slow descent to the white-covered ground.

Mistaking her silence for hesitation, Hotch kissed her cheek. "You _will_ stay the night, won't you?"

It was then that she turned to face him. "Only if you want me to."

"I would love it if you did," he admitted, gazing at her. She was stunning, standing there in the snow; dark hair against pale skin, full red lips tilted into a pretty smile, snowflakes caught in her impossibly long lashes… "_Please_."

She cupped his cheek tenderly. "Then I'll stay."

And stay she did.

~.~.~

_The fire is slowly dying,_  
><em>And, my dear, we're still good-bying,<em>  
><em>But as long as you love me so,<em>  
><em>Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!<em>

**THE END**_._

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are GREATLY appreciated! :D<strong>


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